SoMa: CLEAR GLASS EYES
by Shinji Kato
Summary: "He was fervent to find her – either now or later." When Soul feels depressed, someone comes along. Guess who! btw THIS IS SoMa! *ftw* XD so L - O - V - E it and, reviews are loved. Thank you very much. rated K  for light fluff. :D


**Ohai y'gaiz! *goofy grins***

**This is a short story I made as an impromptu script for a school subject, as a submitted exercise.**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SOUL EATER! If I did, people would be drowning in SoMa fluff and Lemon right now.**** XD**

**CLEAR GLASS EYES**

[Normal POV]

There was not a soul in Wisconsin that hasn't heard of his name – Soul Evans. Girls flocked around him like he was shepherd and they were his herd, although none of them knew who he was at all. No one knew him for being just Soul, but instead, because he was an Evans.

"I'm not my family," he muttered to himself while looking straight down his Baldwin grand baby his father forced him to play for a couple of his colleagues.

Thoughtlessly he spun his fingers across the ivory keys with a melody so familiar to him, yet he despised the most, for that music was a part of what took his life away – Für Elise by Ludvig van Beethoven.

"Your son plays the piano very well," he heard an acquaintance of his dad say, "very much akin to Wes." Wes. None was the soul who didn't know him, for he was also an Evans, much to Soul's dismay. He knew entirely well how his skills as a pianist would never surpass his brother's God-given flair of fiddling the violin. While Soul had to endure with the consequences of not learning the cursed piece within a week, his brother gets all the credit by perfecting it – prim and polished – in just two days' time. In their clan, every infant born was destined to be in the world of music, for it was their family's forte since God knows when.

Although Wes stands as his supreme hindrance in existence, Soul could only hate himself so much for it. The pang of resentment that was venom throughout his nervous system was not because of his prized brother, but because of his deficiency for fervor in the ivories.

Für Elise never sounded so distraught ever before.

Whatever in the music sheet he plays, none sounded lively. Just like his whole being, the tune he made was dreary – a constant rhythm of torment, anxiety, perplexity and ennui.

"You strike your music sound as if you're gonna pass away any time soon," said a voice from behind him. It wasn't of someone with familiarity to him; the high-pitched yet musical voice was fresh for him. It was most definitely from a girl, though truth be told, no girl has ever mouthed ridicule when in the topic of the musically-inclined Evanses. He swung his head to see her who dared to make fun of his playing, for not only did it give him humiliation (which he admitted only to himself) but also gave his pride a big gush.

His pair of crimson eyes met with the girl's incredulous moss-green stare; she met his glare. "Any sooner now, it looks like your head is going to pop," she added insult to injury. Her eyes twinkled along the chandeliers of the mansion's music hall like clear glass eyes.

This lass – undeniably she was somewhat unlike all. It was apparent to see in her eyes that she offered something more, and has a lot of disposition in her.

Their eyes exchanged glances throughout the whole gathering.

After playing a round of five melodies, he retreated from the piano seat to a corner away from the speculating crowd. It was Wes's moment of fame (as if he lacked that); Soul only served as a prologue to him. It was his brother's time to play his part, and the definite uprise of comparisons and contrasts between their abilities was more than he could handle, thus his reason to isolate himself. He looked around to see that the girl behind him earlier was nowhere to be seen. He chose a spot just near the main door so he could pop his iPod on and crank it to maximum volume.

His eyes shifted from left to right, still in search for that girl. The girl who dared to oppose her. No one has ever told him that before. He thought that it was fine, as long as every note was perfect, every interval was precise, and that everyone would like it.

It was only when she blatantly stated it out for him that he realized the melody his fingers produced wreaked loneliness.

It made him ponder why he played the piano, and why he needed to. A sentence from her lips caused a flood of questions to surge through his brain. Just a single sentence! Just one and this caused him fall down, tremble like a coward and hide himself like a hermit crab.

He was fervent to find her – either now or later. He was dying to know how she managed to pull out a flaw from his playing when even musical geniuses were fooled and thought he did great, just like the rest of his family.

What was her basis?

Is she able to see what a person's soul says?

Whatever it was that she has, he has to find out. The curiosity was driving him mad.

As his device played an Industrial song which his parents referred to as cacophony, a pair of hands plucked his headphones off of his head. She smiled as she did, and he obliviously smiled back at her. He moved to his left to give space for his newly-found companion, who said, "Hi, my name's Maka Albarn. Though your music sounded rather sad, I really liked your playing up there."

Suddenly hearing her say that she liked his music made him forget about all the questions he lined up for her.

**END. :))**


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